


No More Dreaming of the Dead

by sequence_fairy



Series: In An Isolated System [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 20:05:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12239745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: Ichigo wakes up in a cold sweat for weeks afterwards, dreaming about the sharp crack of ice shattering against stone.





	No More Dreaming of the Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Not!Angst. Further ruminations on sword spirits and Rukia’s _bankai_ , also for [deathberryprompts](http://deathberryprompts.tumblr.com) weekly drabble theme; 'release'.

The first time Rukia achieves  _bankai_ , they nearly lose her. 

_Hakka no Togame_  is beautiful – all white dress and ribbons and a glittering crown of ice – but Ichigo can’t stop thinking about how Rukia’s skin was cold as frozen iron and her gaze turned from vivid violet to the thousand-yard lilac stare of someone looking beyond the veil of life and death. 

He can’t stop thinking about how the air around her froze so quickly and so cleanly that a rain of frost dusted his robes white and left everyone around them gasping against the knifing cold in their lungs. He can’t stop thinking about how, instead of billowing outwards, her  _reiatsu_  spiraled in, tighter and tighter, until he could barely feel her, even though he was standing as close as he had been told he safely could. 

The moment of release still knocked everyone backwards. 

When the dust settled, Ichigo got shakily to his feet, rivulets of melting snow running down the back of his neck and dripping off his hair onto his face. Rukia was standing, untouched, in the center of the devastation, still as a statue, her blade shattered down to the hilt. 

There were no other thoughts in his head; he had to get to her, and get to her  _now._  

He threw himself into  _shunpo_ , ignoring the yelled warnings behind him. When he reached her, the cold was almost unbearable. Every breath felt like he’d swallowed Z _angetsu_. 

Ichigo reached out -  brought shaking fingers to rest against her cheek. The burning cold of her skin made him flinch, but Ichigo did not pull away. “Rukia.” Ichigo’s hand curved around her jaw, cupping her chin. “Rukia,  _please_ , you can let go now, you did it.

The air around them seemed to sigh, and Rukia blinked. 

She blinked again, and the suddenly melting crown slid through her hair, and hit the ground, shattering with the tinkling of bells. Rukia inhaled, and her hair faded back to raven-black and her eyes turned back to liquid violet. 

“Oh,” she said, and looked up at him. “Did I do it?” 

Ichigo pulled her in, crushing her smaller form against his chest, and burying his face in the crown of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair. Rukia’s arms came up slowly around his back. They stood, absorbed in each other, for a long while, before Rukia pulled away, and the clean up began. 

(Later, they find out that she can’t hold it for longer than a few seconds, because it will freeze her from the inside out. Ichigo bites his tongue against the desire to tell Rukia to stop, to never do it again, because he knows that she would have felt the same way about his choice to use  _Mugetsu_  had she known, and she wouldn’t have stopped him either.) 

(It doesn’t stop him from running practice drills until _Zangetsu_  slips from exhausted hands and he nearly amputates his own toes. It doesn’t stop him from trying to divert the strategy meetings away from solutions that involve her having to use her _bankai_  unless it is absolutely necessary.) 

(Ichigo is overruled, time and again, by Rukia herself.) 

(The dreams get worse.) 

Ichigo wakes up, again, with the scent of snow in his nose. Beside him, Rukia sleeps on, unperturbed by his dreams. He rolls away from her and gets out of their bed, walking barefoot and barely dressed across the floor of their shared room to slide the door across and step outside. 

It is snowing gently, and the whole courtyard is covered in a thick blanket of white. When he went to sleep, outside was muggy heat and lush green, but now it feels like midwinter. Ichigo steps off the wooden porch and down into the snow. There is a rustling noise behind him as he steps forward, and when he turns to check, the villa is gone, and in its place is an endless stand of snow-covered firs. 

He reaches up and back for  _Zangetsu_ , but comes up empty-handed. 

“He will not help you here,” she says, appearing in a swirl of snow. 

“And where is here, exactly?” Ichigo asks. 

“Do you really not know?” The woman is dressed all in white, and her long hair - the same colour as the moon that rises, solemn over the mountains in the distance - fans out in an invisible breeze. 

“Sode no Shirayuki,” Ichigo says, and the sword spirit smiles. “Is this –” 

“You are here at her request,” Shirayuki says, “and you are here because you are afraid.” 

Ichigo balks. Shirayuki smiles, but it is not the pleasant smile of a mother, it is a cold and hungry thing. 

“You  _are_  afraid, Kurosaki.” Shirayuki glides towards him and prods his chest with her finger. “You forget, I think, that I lived here once.” 

“What kind of  _zanpakuto_  kills their master with their power?” Ichigo asks, and Shirayuki laughs. Ichigo frowns. 

“It is not so simple as that,” she says. 

“Then, explain.” 

“Kurosaki, have you learned nothing from your own  _zanpakuto_? No. I suppose you wouldn’t have.” Shirayuki sighs. 

“Hey! What do you mean?” Ichigo protests. 

“Ichigo Kurosaki,” Shirayuki muses, gliding in a wide circle around him. Ichigo turns to follow her with his eyes. “Wielder of  _Zangetsu_ , substitute  _shinigami_ , and –” Shirayuki pauses, and Ichigo is pinned by her gaze. “You love her, don’t you?” 

“What? I don’t – I mean, what does that have to do with anything?” 

“Oh, I think that’s the whole of it, don’t you?” Shirayuki says, and Ichigo reaches for  _Zangetsu_  again. Shirayuki crosses the distance between them with  _shunpo_  so fast that Ichigo cannot track her until she phases in again, right in front of him. “I told you that he would not help you here, why do you hide behind him?” 

“I’m not hiding,” Ichigo argues, “I’m just tired of all these riddles. Thought it was time to cut through the bullshit.” 

Neither of them speak for a long moment. Shirayuki stays in his personal space, and Ichigo fights the urge to take a step back, and doesn’t drop his gaze. 

“Do you not believe she is capable of wielding my strength, Ichigo Kurosaki?”   

“That’s not it at all – of  _course_  Rukia can handle your power, you wouldn’t be her  _zanpakuto_  if she couldn’t –” 

“Do you think my strength is not enough to defeat her enemies?” 

“I’ve seen what the two of you can do,” Ichigo answers, and then looks up at Shirayuki. “And I haven’t forgotten what it was like when I held your power too.” 

“Then why do you hold her back? Why do you keep her from using her power to achieve the ends you wish to achieve?” 

“Because the ends  _don’t_  justify the means,” Ichigo says. “Rukia – Rukia could  _die_  if she uses her _bankai_.” 

“Rukia is not afraid,” Shirayuki states. 

“I’m sure she’s not,” Ichigo agrees, hurriedly. 

“And yet, here you are.” Shirayuki draws back, and Ichigo sucks in a breath. “Obviously the lesson of the  _saigo no getsuga tensho_  was lost on you.” She turns away from him then, in dismissal. 

“The lesson? What are you talking about?” Ichigo says, stepping forward. Shirayuki remains silent.  “Hey, I’m talking to you.” 

Ichigo steps forward again, and again, until he can reach out to touch her. He pokes her in the shoulder. “Hey –!” Shirayuki turns with a vicious speed, and her hand closes around his throat and Ichigo chokes as she lifts him, easily, off his feet.   

“You  _dare_ ,” she hisses, and there’s a cold fury in her eyes that makes Ichigo’s blood chill. “You have less manners than I thought possible.” Ichigo’s hands scrabble against her grip. Shirayuki huffs, and then drops him. Ichigo lands sloppily, and ends up on his knees at her feet. 

Shirayuki materializes a sword from thin air, and thrusts it at him. The point stops just beneath his chin. Ichigo swallows. His heart throbs in his ears, and he can feel the cold from the snow seeping up through his robes. 

“Since you seem to learn best at the point of a sword,” Shirayuki says, then crouches, so she is eye to eye with him. “The lesson is this: when you cut, cut; when you protect, protect; when you fight, win. Losing is not an option, Ichigo Kurosaki, and Rukia has accepted the cost of winning. Didn’t you do the same?” 

She leaves him then, in a snowy gust of wind that nearly blinds him. 

When Ichigo opens his eyes, he’s still on his knees, but now he’s back under summer skies in the courtyard. Shirayuki’s words echo in his mind. He gets to his feet, and walks slowly back across the courtyard. He shucks the  _kosode_  he’d pulled on when he’d gotten out of bed earlier and carefully slides back in beside Rukia. 

Rukia rolls over, and sleepily nuzzles her head into his chest. Ichigo wraps his arms around her, holding her close, and closing his eyes. 

He does not dream again of the sound of ice cracking against stone.

(The ends still don’t justify the means, and there’s nothing that says the fight has to get far enough that Rukia’s _bankai_  is the only option. He’ll do  _whatever it takes_  to keep it from getting there, and in the meantime, he’ll hold Rukia every chance he gets, because if he doesn’t succeed, all he’ll have left to hold is shards of ice that will melt in his hands.) 


End file.
